


inconveniently not as healthy as possible

by mariuspondmercy



Series: Les Amis Are Sick [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras is sick, Grantaire takes it upon him to care for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	inconveniently not as healthy as possible

_Meeting for tonight is cancelled._

A simple message in the group chat but those few words held so much more.

_Are you dying?_

_Did you get hit by a bus?_

_Are you alright?_

_Should we check on you?_

_Sure you’re not dead?_

_Omg what happened?!_

_Do you want us to write you a get-well-soon card?_

_I could write a poem to make you feel better!_

_Should I ask Cosette to bring some chicken soup over?_

_Maybe some flowers will do him good._

After the twentieth message of him dying, Enjolras switched off his phone. Why did everyone always assume the worst? He was allowed to get sick! Okay, fair enough, he never cancelled meetings. Not even last year, after a particularly brutal rally took his toll on him and he had to walk on crotches with his arm in a sling for weeks! Not even when he was hit by fever and could barely walk without his legs giving in. He never cancelled meetings. Never.

An hour after he had shut down his phone, he heard the front door of his apartment being opened. Combeferre probably, to check in on him. Which was nice, really, Enjoras did appreciate it. He was a doctor after all, he could help him.

“In the bedroom!” the blond yelled as good as he could – he had close to no voice. That didn’t stop him from talking though. One time he woke up completely without a voice and a feverish cold and yet, he still held a meeting the same evening!

Enjolras groaned inwardly as the door opened and he spotted the familiar messy-haired Grantaire.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he croaked out.

“Checking in on you. Ferre is at work but he gave me some medicine. Even though we never got a response on what’s wrong with you. You cancelled the meeting, it must be serious.”

“Where’s Joly? He’s a nurse, he could help. Or Courfeyrac.”

“Work and work. I know, you’d rather see Marius or even Cosette than me. But I’m the only one not working. I did bring Cosette’s chicken soup though. Care to tell me what’s wrong with you?” Grantaire grabbed the desk chair and pulled it up next to Enjolras’ bed before he sat down on it.

“Can I get you anything? Maybe crackers and ginger tea?”

“Crackers and ginger ale is the food of the sickly”, Enjolras grimaced, “I’m not sick, I’m merely inconveniently not as healthy as could be. The chicken soup does actually sound quite nice...”

“No problem, I’ll make it! She even made it with organic chicken. You know Cosette. And she knows you prefer it that way. So what’s wrong with you then? Apart from being a sarcastic little shit, but I already knew that.”

Just as Enjolras wanted to complain about the man’s rudeness, he broke out into a coughing fit. Grantiare helped him sit up straight and lightly stroke his back in circles until Enjolras had calmed down. As soon as the blond could breathe properly again, Grantaire withdrew his hand and sat back down in his chair. Enjolras was already missing the hand on his back, large and surprisingly cool against the hotness of his body caused by the fever.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Apollo. I don’t wanna break the news to the others.”

Much to his and Grantaire’s surprise, he answered with a chuckle and shook his head.

“No worries. I’ll wait until you leave before I die. Wouldn’t want to give you any more reasons to drink.”

“And you mean your death wouldn’t be a reason?” Grantaire rolled his eyes, “it would pretty much be a reason for all of your friends to get completely shitfaced. So don’t you dare die at all.”

A soft smile spread across Enjolras’ lips before he cleared his throat and averted the gaze from Grantaire. “So, how about my soup now, huh?”

“Oh yeah, right, sorry. I’ll be right back!”

As soon as Grantaire was back, he helped Enjolras sit up properly and, while he ate, aired out the room and made some ginger tea (even though Enjolras had protested at first). After finishing half the soup in just under an hour, Enjolras fell asleep. He was simply exhausted from the fever, the coughing fits and the ache which spread through all of his body.

When he woke up, the sun had already set and Grantaire was gone. At least he wasn’t in the room anymore, but Enjolras could hear someone working in the kitchen and, since Grantaire’s sketch book was lying on the bedside table, it was safe to assume he was still in the flat.

And indeed, Grantaire entered the bedroom only minutes later, a cup of coffee and some food with him.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good, you look much better already. Shall I air out again and maybe get you some water or more soup? Crackers?”

“I want coffee”, Enjolras nearly whined, “not that bloody ginger tea.”

Grantaire had to hold back a laugh at his companion’s tone. “You can’t have coffee. Combeferre said so.”

“Then I want a shower. I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit.”

“That’s because I’m sick.”

“Oh are you now? This morning you were just _inconveniently not as healthy as possible_ ”, Grantaire mocked him with a grin.

“Shut up and help me get out of bed.”

“Sure you wanna have a shower when you can’t even get up without help? What do you want me to do? Shower with you?”

A sudden _yes_ popped into Enjolras’ head but he didn’t voice it.

“Of course not”, he hissed, “Fine. Then I’ll just stay here.”

Grantaire grinned. “Aww, look at that pouty face. Okay, Chief, I’ll help you out of bed if you allow me to leave the bathroom door open and promise to yell the second you feel weird.”

“Fine”, Enjolras answered, the pout never leaving his lips.

Showering was quite an adventure but went well nonetheless. Not once did he have to ask Grantaire for help, even though he did feel a little weird in his stomach region. Nothing to worry about though. When he came back into his room – all changed in fresh clothes – Grantaire was just changing his bed linens.

“Shall I heat up some soup? Are you hungry? I also bought breadsticks while you slept. And Ferre texted, his shift is early over and then he’ll come and you finally get rid of me.”

“Oh”, was all Enjolras could utter.

Grantaire looked up from his task, shooting Enjolras a confused look. It really wasn’t fair, the way he looked with his wet hair sticking to his head, with his skin still damp from the water fever-sweat, with his red shirt already clinging to his body.

“.... so, soup?” Grantaire asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Yeah, would be great. Do I have to go back to bed?”

“No. If you feel like you can actually sit on the sofa and eat soup there, we’ll do that. Maybe Ferre will even be here to keep you company while you eat.”

“He’ll just make me go back to bed”, Enjolras complained, voice slightly whiny.

“He’s a doctor. He’s your friend. He knows what’s best for you.”

“You’re my friend, too, you don’t make me stay in bed.” Before Enjolras could think, the words had already left his lips. He cursed inwardly; maybe he could blame it on the fever? But lucky him, Grantaire already did that for him.

“And there’s the fever talking. Sure you’re not having fever-daydreams? Come on, let’s get some food into you.”

They ate in silence, Enjolras glancing at Grantaire every so often. The fever made him weak, the fever made him see things he’d never seen before. Such as how perfect Grantaire’s curls were or how elegantly he held his soup spoon. Must be the artist in him, so used to holding a pencil or a brush.

“I’m sure Combeferre will be here soon”, Grantaire assured Enjolras from time to time, just to break the silence. He was always met with a short nod.

After they had finished the soup, Grantaire got Enjolras’ duvet and made sure the blond lay down on the sofa, all wrapped up and tucked in. At least this way his bedroom could air out properly.

“Is Courf coming, too?”

“I can text him. I’m sure he will. You wanna see him?”

“He’s my friend, ‘course I wanna see him”, Enjolras muttered sleepily, “want you to stay, too.”

“Oh you’re so delirious.” Grantaire sighed and knelt down in front of the sofa, “Just tell me when you need something, okay?”

“Will do”, he nodded. He could already feel himself drifting off to sleep again, his last thought being spared for Grantaire.

When he woke up again it was already in the middle of the night. And somehow being greeted with the sight of Combeferre and Courfeyrac curled up on the other sofa left him feeling empty. Until he saw Grantaire, sleeping with his back rested against the bookcase, and a warmth with had nothing to do with his fever replaced the cold emptiness within him.


End file.
